A Helping Hand
by TanyaPotter
Summary: Prison Break/House MD xover. Michael/House. When Michael's plans go south again and again, he goes to the one person he knows will help. SLASH. AU.


A Helping Hand

Summery: Prison break/House MD xover. Michael/House. When Michael's plans go south again and again, he goes to the one person he knows will help. SLASH. AU.

AN: I started this a while back, I'm not so much into PB anymore, and I cant quite remember the time line. I may add another chapter in the future, or if anyone wants to turn this into a chapter story, let me know! Otherwise, it's considered COMPLETE.

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"What are we going to do now Michael?" Linc shouted, voice bordering on hysterical. "We cant get anywhere without money."

"I know that! Just- let me think for a minute." He cupped his hands over his mouth, eyes clenched and mind racing. A gusty sigh escaped gritted teeth and he scrubbed his hands roughly over his face and across his short hair. They had come too far- accomplished too much to give up. He took a deep breath through his nose and forced himself to calm down. There was one place he could get help- one person he could trust outside this fucked up situation.

"Okay, we need a car."

Two hours and a nondescript white Honda stolen from a park and ride found the brothers merging onto I-80 East. Thirteen long hours later found them pulling into the parking lot of a fairly large apartment building just after ten in the morning. They made their way quickly up the stairs, somehow managing not to run into anyone. Michael dug down into his pocket, pulling free the key ring he still had from Oswego as they came to a stop in front of door. He ignored his brothers questioning look as he entered the familiar room.

He couldn't help taking in a deep breath, familiar smells overwhelming his senses. He had to stop himself from collapsing onto the familiar couch and took a second to just look around. Nothing had changed in the time he had been gone- The coffee table was still littered with books and medical journals, the piano was familiar in the corner with a guitar handing on the wall behind it. The mantle over the fireplace was just as cluttered as the table, the small cage holding Steve right where he remembered it.

"Michael, who lives here?"

The younger of the two looked at his brother, face unreadable. "A friend." He finally stated before he walked over and grabbed the phone. His fingers tapped out a familiar pattern and he waited until voicemail clicked. "Greg, uh, its me. Look, I really need to see you." He hesitated for a second before he clicked the phone off and dialed a different number.

"Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital, how can I direct your call?"

"Yes, I need to talk to Dr. House. It's an emergency, and he's not picking up his office phone."

"Hold for one minute please, I'll see if I can reach him." The cool female voice spoke before 'relaxing' music filtered over the line. It was almost five minutes before she picked back up. "I'm sorry sir, I'm having trouble locating Dr House. I can transfer you back to his office to try again?"

"No, thank you." He clicked off the phone again and tossed it down on the couch. He ran his hands over his head again before grabbing the keys and heading back towards the door.

"Michael!" Lincoln growled, grabbing his elbow before he could leave. "What's going on?"

"Just- stay here for a bit ok? I need to go see this guy. He'll help us."

"How are you so sure he's not just going to call the cops the second you show your face? Aren't you the one that said not to trust anyone?!"

"Greg's different."

"How?"

"He just is. Look, trust me Linc. I'll be back- an hour tops. Just relax." He pulled his arm free, pausing to pull his ball cap further down over his face and left.

Ten minutes later he was walking through the glass doors of the large building. He glanced around before making his way to the concierge desk, keeping his head bowed. "Can you tell me where Dr. Houses' office is please? I have an appointment with him at 10:30, and I'm running a bit late."

Directions in hand he made his way to the stairwell, not wanting to get caught in the elevator with strangers. He emerged on the right floor and started down the long hallways, mentally cursing the fact that everything in the damn place was made of glass. He could feel the curious looks shot his way- even more so when he found the right door and pushed it open.

Three startled faces stared at him. "Uh, can we help you?" The good looking blonde man asked, Australian accent thick on his tongue.

"I'm looking for Dr. House." His eyes swept the room from under the brim of his hat, still not raising his head.

"You should call and make an appointment. Dr. House doesn't like people dropping in and he probably wont agree to talk to you without one. If you'd like I can set one up for you?" The young woman spoke up, slight concern and curiosity clear in her voice.

"No, I'll wait for him. Thanks though." He spotted the large desk through yet another glass door and made his way through it.

"Sir, you cant go in there!" The woman called after him, voice losing it's soft soothing tone it had before. "Sir!"

Michael paused with his hand of the handle. "It's ok. Cameron, right? I'm a friend, he'll see me."

The black man scoffed. "House doesn't have friends."

Michael turned his head, shooting a scornful look to match the mans disparaging tone of voice. "… Right." He stated, sarcasm morphing his voice completely before he pushed through the door and took a seat in the comfortable chair behind the desk.

He could hear the three of them talking and wondered absently if they knew how well the sound traveled or if Greg kept it to himself.

"Should we call security?" Cameron asked, voice tense.

"Why not page House and let him deal with it?" Chase answered, reaching for his phone.

"Let House deal with what?" A mocking voice cut from the door to the hallway. The three startled and turned to look at their newly arrived boss.

"You have a visitor. He said he's a friend." Cameron answered quietly, gesturing to his office. House turned to look at the figure that had propped his feet up on the desk and was rolling his tennis ball in his hands. The mans head was bowed and his hat covered his profile, but House would recognize him anywhere. He froze in disbelief, eyes wide. "House? Do you want me to call security?"

House shook his head and turned back to his team. "Why would I want you to do that?" He shot scornfully. "Go poke our patient. We need fresh blood." He ignored the three trading looks and limped across the room. As soon as he was in his office he pulled the cord that shut the blinds- giving the two of them a sense of privacy. "What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded, striding to stand over the seated man.

Michael finally raised his head, meeting the stunning blue eyes that had drawn him to this man. "Hey Greg, long time no see." He tried to joke.

"You do realize that your face is all over news, right?" He asked, voice hard. Michael swallowed hard and nodded. "I saw your failed bank robbery on TV. When you said I wasn't going to see you for a while, that wasn't quite what I had in mind you IDIOT." He snapped, swiping the ball from the younger man. "What is going through that head of yours?!"

"I just… I had to get him out!" He shook his head, seeming to shrink into the upholstery. "I had everything planned out- down to the smallest detail! Nothings going right, everything is so fucked up! I let a murderer and a mob boss out of prison! The money is gone, the car I had is gone, the feds are all over us. There's this fed- Mahone, he's already figuring out my plan, reading my tattoos. He's two steps ahead of us…" He pinched his nose hard, trying to stop the desperation flooding into his normally unshakeable voice. "I don't know what to do Greg." He whispered.

House sighed harshly, dropping the ball and his cane to the floor with a clutter and pulled the smaller man up and to his body. He leaned back against the desk, spreading his legs and letting his rest comfortably against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and slim fingers curled into the back of his shirt. He wrapped his own arms around the slim body, laying one hand against the small of his back and gripping the back of his neck with the other, keeping his face pressed against the crook of his own neck.

They stood that way for an eternity, bodies melded and both taking comfort from the other. They were forced to pull apart and a strong knock on the door. House made a sound not unlike a growl and pulled away, leaving the other to turn and lean against the wood himself, keeping his back to the door.

"Is everything okay Dr. House? We had report of a suspicious figure coming this way." A deep voice grumbled.

"I suppose a prostitute walking through a hospital is a bit suspicious, but nothing to worry yourself about, Watson."

"My name is Bob." He stated, deadpanned. "If everything's alright, I'll leave you to it. Have a good day doctor House."

"Prostitute?" Michael asked, amusement and offence warring in his voice.

"Sorry, I know you folks like to be called 'working boys'."

Michael snorted, mouth curling despite himself. He pulled the older man towards himself. Their eyes met and familiar lips greeted his a second later. He let his hand tangle in the messy hair and gripped the other body tighter to him. And for that minute, all was right in his world. He pulled back and sighed a bit later, resting his forehead against the other in a familiar, comforting move. "I left my brother in your apartment. I told him I'd only be an hour ohh… " He looked to the clock. "55 minutes ago… I should get back."

Greg nodded. "so what's your plan?"

"I don't know." He admitted. "I just… I needed to see you. Needed to clear my head and make a plan…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. You don't need all this to come down on you.."

Greg kissed him again, ending with a sharp nip to his lip. "You're rambling." He stated calmly. "Come on, I'll take you home." The two of them walked back out to the main office to see the three other doctors back at the table.

"Ahh minions. I was going to let this go until you acted like doctors and cured your patient- but something's come up. Now- Problems with muscle coordination, paralysis, numbness, partial blindness, early stage dementia. Tell me, _Doctors" _he added scornful emphasis on the word, "What happens when syphilis goes untreated for 25 years?" Dawning understanding crossed the faces. "The patient is only forty- Now, would you tell your parents that you had sores and a rash on your private bits when you were fifteen? Treat with penicillin. I'm leaving." His abrupt exit left his employees looking after him in shocked silence, but Michael was well use to his demeanor and followed with a wave of his fingers.

They made it to the parking lot without incident and walked to the doctors assigned spot. "When did you get a bike?! Michael exclaimed, a surprised grin crossing his face. Greg shot him a naughty grin as he plucked off his cap and handed him a helmet.

"How'd you get here anyway?"

"… Stole a car…" He mumbled, ashamed.

"Do you need to get anything out of it?"

"No, we took what we had to your apartment, just… as a precaution."

Greg nodded silently, face free of judgment, and swung his bad leg slowly over the seat, tucking his cane into its trusty holder. Michael took a seat behind him, enjoying an excuse to clutch tightly to his lover. The ride home was over way to quick and they were entering the apartment minutes later.

"What the hell took you so long!" Lincoln demanded as soon as the door was shut. "You said an hour tops!"

"Yea, sorry." He said, voice even and unconcerned, shooting a dismissive look at his brother. House grabbed his sore thigh as he sat down and reached for the small bottle in his pocket. When Michael saw what he was doing he walked into the kitchen and filled a glass of water without a word.

The older man could take his pills without a drink and often did- when getting rid of the pain as soon as possible was worth more then the effort it would take to get a glass- but water did help them slide down easier and kept the chalky residue from coating his mouth and throat. It wasn't necessary, but it was nice.

Michael sat on the couch next to him, one leg pulled up under his body, elbow resting on the back and knuckle caught between his teeth watching the man thoughtfully. He could tell then the pills started to take effect- could see the well hidden tenseness of his body relax into cushions. "Where are you trying to get?"

"Panama."

"Michael!" Lincoln cut in sharply. "How sure are you that we can trust this guy?" He demanded.

"I'm sure." He stated calmly, shooting his brother a reassuring look.

"How much do you need to get there?"

"About three thousand." House nodded and pulled himself from the couch. He gestured the other man to get off the couch before he started to push it backwards. When the floor was uncovered he pried up the fake floorboard to expose a safe built into the floor.

"Oh come on." He spat at the odd look his lovers' brother was shooting him. "Any idiot can find a safe of a wall, and anyone looking for a safe will know how to open it." He punched in the code quickly, pulling it open when the screen turned green. A thick file folder took up a good portion of the space, but the rest was filled with cash.

"Get me the old backpack out of the bedroom, will you?" Michael left to grab it without comment, and then watched as his lover grabbed out stack after stack of money. He closed the safe a couple of seconds later and replaced the floorboard. The brothers pushed the couch back into place and then Greg handed Michael the backpack, gesturing him back into the bedroom as he did so. He closed the door behind them.

"That's one hundred.."

"That's too much."

"Money is just money, Michael. I've got plenty of it and not a lot to spend it on. If it helps keep you alive then take it." He scratched his scuff. "There's some pretty cheap places to live outside Panama City. You can get there, find a decent house and _live_."

"Greg.."

"And in a year, I'll come see you." He finished. His voice was as confident and cocky as ever as he finished, but Michael could see the hint of doubt swirling in the blue depths. Their eyes locked, both searching, until Michael nodded in agreement. They came together without a word. Their touch wasn't desperate, they were both too reserved for that, but their passion, their _love_, was easily felt by the other.

Pounding on the bedroom door pulled them apart scant seconds later. Michael clinched his eyes shut, forehead pressed against the others' and hand fisted tightly in the back of the his t-shirt. "Michael! Come on, man, we've gotta go!"

Michael blew out a breath harshly through his nose. "The longer we wait, the more time they've got to get organized." He nodded to himself and pulled away, allowing his nails to drag along the cotton clad flesh. He scrubbed his stubbly face harshly with his hand and then grabbed the bag and moved to the door. Greg followed silently.

He replaced his hat and sent a last, almost lost, look around the place that had become a home to him, knowing it was likely the last time he would see it. His eyes met those of his brother and the both started moving toward the door.

"Hey!" He grabbed the red blur out of the air before it could connect with his skull. He looked questioningly at Greg. "It helps me think… It might help you too." He answered gruffly.

"Thank you." A small smile curled his lips as he tucked the ridiculous thing into the bag he still held. His hand was on the door handle when he paused for the last time.

"Michael." He turned to meet focused blue eyes. "Be careful.."

The younger man smiled softly again, bowing his head slightly in agreement. "I'll see you in a year." He replied, pulling the door open.

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END

Again, if anyone wants to turn this into a chapter fic, please let me know.


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